


broken bones and being left alone

by hopefulundertone



Series: forever brothers [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bromalgamate, Amalgamates, Bromalgamate, Bromalgamate AU, Gen, Pacifist Route, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulundertone/pseuds/hopefulundertone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the fusion and the struggle to adapt to their new situation. Sans and Papyrus do their best, but in the absence of secrets, their innermost fears come to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	broken bones and being left alone

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! so here's more bromalgamate au, because some asked for it and also because i can't resist this au, it makes me cry. title from panic!'s when the day met the night, because it's such a bromalgamate song tbh. enjoy!

The first few days are hard. You have to learn to move together, and for a long time, you’re too busy squabbling to do much, except comfort Alphys. In that, and only that, you’re united, but everything else… You want to explore, you want to sleep. You want to cook, you want to read. You want to leave, you want to stay. The first few days in particular are spent down in the basement, fighting crippling indecision, much like the anxiety you perhaps used to have at one point or another.

**what’s the point we’re stuck like this there’s no going back there’s no freeing us**

_WE COULD TRY. WE CAN ALWAYS TRY. NEVER SAY NEVER! YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE._

**well if i believed we could fly, it wouldn’t mean we could.**

_I’M NOT SUGGESTING WE FLY! I’M JUST SAYING, WE COULD GO OUT INTO THE WORLD, EXPLORE, FIND THE OTHER AMALGAMATES._

**why bother there’s no point just give up just stay down here where it’s safe and dark and quiet if we go up to the surface people would see us**

_I-I’M SURE THEY WOULDN’T MIND. THE HUMAN WOULDN’T MIND. I-I DON’T, I-_

**exactly. here it’s safe. we can make a home. we can get our stuff from our house, make a home.**

_IF THEY ARE TRULY OUR FRIENDS, THEY WON’T, THEY WON’T CARE ABOUT HOW WE, HOW WE LOOK…_

**not everyone is our friend. especially not now.**

_BUT- THEY- WE-_

**just give up.**

_NO! WE MUST TRY, FOR IF WE NEVER TRY, WE MAY NEVER KNOW!_

**and if i’m right and they hate us? we would be crushed. better to stay here and imagine they could accept us.**

  
On and on it carries, even though it’s barely visible on the outside, the only tell being the way you shiver constantly, amorphous form constantly pulling apart and clashing together. Besides breaks for food that Alphys supplies and sleep, you’re effectively at war with yourself, unable to carry through on anything at all. Bones are continuously poking through the floor, sometimes white, but more often blue, and your gasterblasters never disappear nowadays, hovering along wherever you go and firing off randomly. One of your skulls yawn, and the gasterblaster fires a huge beam of magic in sync with his movements. It only stops when it closes his mouth, and the other, shocked into temporary speechlessness, recovers and begins berating him immediately. You poke yourself in the head, and retaliate by flicking your skull, which sparks a war that ends in a stalemate of you flapping your hands at the other skull, and gets you nowhere.

It’s frustrating and annoying and irritates you to no end; the moment you try teleporting to the surface, you find yourself back in the lab, and every time you try to talk to Alphys, your voice comes out as an unnatural shriek, like two voices that aren’t quite in sync sounding at the same time. The lower one sounds just a millisecond faster than the higher one, but even the small difference chokes you and grates on your lack of ears, and you can’t stand it, cutting yourself off the moment you begin talking, and that’s when you can agree on something to say. Most times, you want to say something completely different and end up howling both in a jumble of words that sound like pained screams more than any coherent speech. You just can’t seem to find peace anywhere.

The headaches are the worst, though. Everything you do, you do through a haze of dull pain that spikes sharply during your arguments with yourself. To be honest, most of your explosive disputes end because the pain is too sharp, and you feel like your skulls might actually crack in half. Afterwards, you like to sink into your goop, dissolving most of the skulls into the cooling slime, and nap for a while, before repeating the process. You’re at the end of your tether, and not least because of the strong undercurrent of shame that’s one of the only things you share, besides a body and a mind. No matter how close you might be to someone, there are always things you don’t want to share. Living creatures weren’t built to meld minds, and you’re no exception to that rule, even if you were forced to be. ~~You’re ashamed that you kept so many secrets~~ ; ~~you’re ashamed that you’re so insecure~~ , ~~you’re ashamed that you have given up~~ , ~~you’re ashamed of how blind you are~~. ~~You’re ashamed of your weakness~~ , ~~that you can’t save anyone, too weak to even try anymore~~ , ~~can’t admit you’re alone and friendless, too weak to give in to the knowledge that’s been lurking just behind your conscious thoughts.~~

You're just an _UNLOVABLE_ **coward**.

You chance upon a memory from before, a fleeting thought that grew heavy and weighed your heart, that perhaps there’s something wrong with you, no, you can’t be, probably, probably just tired just tired just tired just tired. It calls to another wandering train of thought, that maybe something’s up with your brother, he’s always so tired, perhaps he’s keeping secrets, but he wouldn’t, he’s probably fine, right? He has to be, in all honesty, he’s really all you’ve got, isn’t he? **_  
_**

You try to ask Alphys about the splitting headaches you keep getting, but she can’t look at you properly, and her voices shakes and trembles like a cup of water threatening to spill over. All you can catch are snippets like, “unstable neural handshake” and “synaptic pattern displacement”, but it’s not enough even for your scientific mind to begin hypothesizing on. Even so, theories blossom like flowers in spring, and your mind doesn’t rest for a good while after.

 

-

 

Finally, it’s the sound of the barrier breaking that snaps you out of your maddening reverie. The booming sound chills you to the bone, no pun intended, and you cry out, voices in sync for once, twin emotions of shock lined up. The gasterblasters fire a short blast, and you duck instinctively, before teleporting up to New Home, compromising by hiding in the shadows as you watch the barrier collapse and Frisk...? is that the human’s name? lies on the ground, face deathly pale. Again, you both agree to stay in the dark instead of surging forward like you instinctively want to; seeing a disgusting, amorphous blob of slime instead of your favourite skeleton brothers wouldn’t be the best thing to wake up to. And again, your emotions coincide, concern and worry washing over you in waves as you peer at the human. Are they… could they be dead? Your worries are layered, both of you wanting the human to be alright, but a part of you knows that if they die, a RESET will occur, and… and maybe you should be happy? The idea doesn’t make you happy, however. You will be separate once more, of course, but-

But-

You’ll be **alone.**

Fear makes your smaller skull quiver, and suddenly you understand, with the type of frightening clarity that’s usually accompanied by a lightning bolt: you don’t want to be apart. Maybe you could have...better...lives? Certainly, neither of you would hold each other back, and the fact that you were a dripping, slimy amalgamate wouldn’t hinder you either, considering you’d both be skeletons again. And yet- Perhaps you don’t mind too much, being this way. You wouldn’t have to be **alone** , or _UNLOVED_.

 

_***YOU WOULD BE TOGETHER. that’s not so bad, is it?** _

__

Unconsciously, your hands, searching for comfort, link together, and the dull ache at the back of your skulls vanishes immediately, as does the discordant buzz in the background of your mind that is your constant companion. As if on cue, Frisk stirs, and you vanish, back to the dank safety of the true lab. You have much to discuss, even if it is only with yourself. But you allow yourself hope, the kind you’d always taken for granted and never let yourself feel at the same time, hope that maybe, maybe, this could work.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! i was thinking about the struggle of being melded to someone whos basically your complete opposite, and also being melded to someone who was depressed, bc sans probably has actual depression. like their mental state would totally fuck yours up, yknow? it'd be like those comics where they personify depression as a burden? also if sans seems kind of harsh/says things he wouldnt say to papyrus, it's mostly because these are their thoughts, and in this form, they can't exactly hide things from one another? i guess idk
> 
> comments and feedback super appreciated!


End file.
